


Two Hearts, Tied Together

by Mari_kel



Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Female OC is Butsuma's wife & kids' mother, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hashirama is a momma's boy and it shows, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Misogyny, Morally Ambiguous Character, Naruto Founder's Week 2020, One Shot, POV Senju Tobirama, Plotting, Senju Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tajima is implied to be at least a decent dad, Unreliable Narrator, Warring States Period (Naruto), because Kishi never gave us her name, but this isn't a torture fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_kel/pseuds/Mari_kel
Summary: Soulmates are a curse.It is Tobirama’s first, and correct, thought on the matter.
Relationships: Minor Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara - Relationship, Senju Butsuma/Original Female Character(s), Senju Tobirama & Original Female Character(s), Senju Tobirama & Senju Hashirama
Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973896
Comments: 27
Kudos: 110
Collections: Founders Week 2020





	Two Hearts, Tied Together

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Fix-It
> 
> I swear to god, this actually is a fix-it...kinda. I know day 7 is soulmates/free day, but I already wrote that fic when this idea popped into my head about a non-perfect fix-it. Basically, this fic asks the question: what if moms were a thing? Specifically the Senjus' mom? I also realized, as an author, my favorite character archetype to default to is a terrifying mother(figure) that loves her children but will fuck up anyone else...if that gives you a clue to the fic's direction LOL.
> 
> Most of the implied/referenced/generally bad tags are just implied or not explicit. The fic is a bit angsty but it's not a long, drawn-out torture fest. The suicide one is directly referenced but its use hinges on how soulmates operate in-fic. However, it does come up quite explicitly, so please be aware and stay safe. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Soulmates are a curse.

It is Tobirama’s first, and _correct_ , thought on the matter.

However, like with most things, Hashirama disagrees with him. He thinks there’s something _romantic_ about them. The most he’ll admit is they might be inconvenient.

 _Inconvenient._ Like spilling ink on a fresh scroll or Father assigning extra training late at night. Soulmates are not an inconvenience, they're a liability. If you find your ‘other half’, as Hashirama wistfully puts it, your life becomes tied to theirs. Their death will be your own.

It should be obvious why a person would never want to find their soulmate. Even more so for a shinobi, for _Hashirama._ His brother is strong. Abnormally strong and capable of healing at an inhuman rate. And that isn’t even mentioning his chakra. It’s hard for Tobirama to practice his sensory techniques with Hashirama nearby because his brother has _so much_ chakra it’s blinding. And at its center, another power lurks, a seed ready to sprout.

Tobirama has searched the entire Senju archives top to bottom and there’s only reference to one, legendary power that could explain all the phenomena: _mokuton._ The lost Senju kekkei genkai.

If Hashirama has it, he’ll be the strongest person in the entire clan. No, the entire _world._ The Senju would be unstoppable and they’d finally, _finally_ be able to crush the Uchiha and put an end to the war. But all of that meant nothing if Hashirama found his soulmate and she was a helpless civilian.

One slit throat and the strongest Senju shinobi falls.

Tobirama tries to explain this, tries to warn his brother out of _trying_ to find his soulmate, but Hashirama won’t listen.

“Tobi, come on. You’re being too pessimistic. Can you imagine meeting your soulmate? Someone who can _know_ you? Who you don’t ever have to pretend with, that’s the same as you deep, deep down? Wouldn’t that be the best way to solve conflicts?” Hashirama asks with wide, shining brown eyes. He just turned thirteen, technically an adult by clan law.

He should know better.

Just because you have a soulmate doesn’t mean you’ll love them; it doesn’t even mean you’ll like them. Their own parents are a perfect example.

While theoretically everyone _has_ a soulmate, it’s rare to actually meet them. There’s no way to tell who your soulmate is until you’ve already met and touched, skin-to-skin. Only then does their name appear carved over your heart, in bright blistering red characters. That’s when the curse takes effect. And while only death is fully shared, one soulmate’s physical injuries appear painted across the other’s skin.

Most people, _smart_ people, don’t flaunt their soulmates. They keep them secret and hidden, especially when there’s a disparity between power levels.

After all, reveal the name on your enemy’s chest or find someone with matching painted wounds and you find their weak spot.

It’s one of the fastest and easiest ways to assassinate enemy leaders. 

But Hashirama, like usual, is lost in his romantic thoughts so Tobirama is forced to be the realist. Every time they bathe, Tobirama checks. And every time, he feels relived to see Hashirama’s bare, unmarked chest.

But even Tobirama, who’s always watching, missed the early signs after Kawarama’s death.

When their youngest brother died Hashirama became sad and depressed. He isolated himself, choosing to mainly spend his time alone or with Mother. Tobirama didn’t think much of it at first. Hashirama had always been emotional, prone to the highest peaks and the lowest depths. It was logical that Kawarama’s death would be hard for him. Tobirama kept mostly to himself too, only going out of his way to spend extra time with Itama.

It wasn’t even that strange that when Hashirama did want company, he usually chose to go to Mother.

Hashirama has always been her favorite.

It’s a fact that Tobirama knows like the sun rises in the east or water is pulled downstream. Hashirama, even with his mercurial moods, has a sort of innocent, naivete that Tobirama cannot understand. He thinks because the world _should_ be different, he can make it different.

Mother likes his wishful thinking, encourages it even.

They also share the same tactile nature and, while Tobirama loves his brother, he does not like the constant invasion of his space. Mother picking him up at random, Hashirama trying to hold hands, both of them wanting to cuddle at _every_ opportunity.

Butsuma disapproved, of course.

Today, he finds them in one of Mother’s larger study rooms. Mother works on her embroidery while Hashirama naps, curled up in her lap. His own shoddy embroidery lies abandoned to the side. Tobirama studies his tactical scrolls, making careful notes in case Father decides to jump forward in his lessons again and Itama lies on his stomach, painting with his calligraphy set instead of practicing. 

“Hagane.”

The single word is enough to destroy the simple ease in the room. Tobirama tenses, he recognizes that tone, as Itama starts to tremble beside him. _Stop it._ He wants to say, wants to grab Itama because Father is in a bad mood and anything will be enough to set him off.

Mother lowers her embroidery, subtly covering Hashirama’s before Father sees. Her arms lock around Hashirama’s shoulders.

“Wake him up, it’s time to train.”

“Today is a resting day. All of the boys have finished their studies—”

“There are no such thing as resting days in war!” Butsuma yells, taking a step forward. “You do nothing but coddle them and make them weak! Hashirama is an adult and he’s laying in your lap like a babe—”

“Lower your voice in my rooms, Butsuma.” Mother’s voice is cold, the long embroidery needle that she uses for the thicker fabrics held like a kunai in her hand.

“Get up. We’re going,” Father turns to look at him and Itama.

“Sit down, boys,” Mother keeps her eyes on Father, her free hand on Hashirama’s head.

Tobirama is torn. He dislikes getting in between them and things have been…unsettled ever since Kawarama’s death. Before, Kawarama would always immediately side with Father and Hashirama with Mother, leaving Tobirama and Itama caught in the middle. Typically Itama would hide behind Mother’s kimono, while Tobirama would join Butsuma and Kawarama to end the standoff.

When he was alive Kawarama would try and pick fights with Hashirama. He thought he was Father’s favorite and it was his job, despite being the youngest, to displace Hashirama at the top. Kawarama was reckless, angry.

He was not Butsuma’s favorite.

Hashirama never viewed him as a serious threat, just a silly little brother.

“Itama!” Butsuma yells and with a cry Itama stands, ink and brushes abandoned on the tatami as he races to Butsuma’s side. Mother’s steel gray eyes, the only feature Hashirama didn’t inherit from her, burn into Tobirama as he slowly stands and takes his place next to Butsuma. He keeps his eyes on the ground and barely bites back his wince when Father lays his heavy hand on Tobirama’s shoulder.

It’s not a good thing to be Butsuma’s favorite.

Tobirama doesn’t worry about the topic of soulmates more than any other one of Hashirama’s naive, too good to be true ideas until Itama’s death. Hashirama, who never completely relaxed back into his original routine, starts secluding himself again, disappearing for longer and longer periods.

His fights with Butsuma worsen. Not a day goes by that their shouting doesn’t fill the house or training grounds, usually ending in a physical altercation. Even Hashirama’s healing has a limit before he has to limp back to Mother to get his wounds treated. It turns Tobirama’s stomach but it’s just discipline. Hashirama is acting out and Father is disciplining him. It won’t go beyond that. Farther _wouldn’t_.

Tobirama still avoids the house and both his parents afterward. Father’s boiling anger takes ages to calm and Mother…Mother never yells. She never cries. Her eyes just get colder and colder and colder. They never completely thaw.

He doesn’t want this, Tobirama wishes he could say, whenever Father forces the entire household to get involved. Tobirama constantly finds himself on the other side, facing Hashirama and Mother. Butsuma’s heavy hand on his shoulder, Mother’s tiny delicate hand on Hashirama’s. And because they are the last two sons, the choice, the divide, feels even greater.

But Butsuma is the clan head, Hashirama can only have any defiance, any rebellion, because Tobirama is the obedient son. Mother can defy Father in their house, but outside? Among the clan?

She’s helpless. Only Butsuma’s wife.

Hashirama becomes distant, choosing to bathe alone, sleep alone, and train alone. It’s not Tobirama’s fault, it’s just Hashirama’s grieving process. But every time he walks past Mother’s rooms, he hears her and Hashirama speaking softly together, the shadow of her hand running through his hair. Tobirama starts to wonder if Hashirama is avoiding _him_.

So, he decides to act.

He waits outside of the baths during the middle of the day, when he’s usually in the archives.

Hashirama’s head pops out of the bathhouse, towel draped over his shoulders as he looks around.

“Hashi—” Tobirama starts but is interrupted by Hashirama’s high pitched scream. His brother jolts, brown eyes wide and panicked as he slaps a hand over his chest.

But Tobirama has already seen it.

Not all, but part of the bright red characters that spell out a name. He barely caught _ma_ before Hashirama covered it. Tobirama loses his train of thought, trailing off into shocked silence as the full gravity of the situation hits him.

Soulmates were _rare_ , there were only a handful of pairs in the entire Senju clan. How could Hashirama have already found his? How could he already have such a terrible weakness?

“Tobirama you can’t tell, Butsuma, ok? Do you understand me? He can’t know!” Hashirama says desperately, crossing the space between them and shaking Tobirama’s shoulder with one hand.

Tobirama wants to demand who it is, how did Hashirama find her, what measures has he taken to make sure he won’t be killed.

But comes out instead is:

“You didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, Tobi…I wanted to, but you hate talking about soulmates! And Mom said—”

“You should have anyway,” Tobirama interrupts. “Do you understand how serious this is? If she’s a civilian—”

“Ugh,” Hashirama’s shoulders slump and he starts to pout. “See? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid! I found my _soulmate_ ,” his eyes sparkle and Tobirama feels his skin prickle with unease, “and they’re everything I’d hoped they be! I want to enjoy it, just a little Tobirama. So please, _please_ don’t tell Butsuma.”

Tobirama is silent, torn. This isn’t the time for Hashirama’s naivete but…it’ll come out eventually. His soulmate’s name is carved on his chest. Eventually Father will see, just like Tobirama did, or he’ll get suspicious that Hashirama is covering up his chest.

Hashirama doesn’t ask much of him. Hashirama doesn’t _need_ Tobirama.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agrees and Hashirama pulls him into a hug before Tobirama can protest.

Later that night, when Tobirama’s finishing up his calligraphy practice, a shadow appears outside his room and someone knocks on the wooden doorframe.

“Enter.” He looks up and sees Hagane. “Anija told you.” Tobirama guesses as she crosses the room to sit in front of him. Despite the hour, she’s still dressed in her white day kimono, every line and tie perfect and straight, except it’s folded left over right. Mother refuses to wear it any other way.

He’s not surprised, Hashirama can talk for hours if no one stops him, but he’s still a little hurt that he has to tell Mother _everything._

Tobirama said he wouldn’t tell Father. That should be enough. 

“Yes. I want to know when you’ll tell Butsuma,” Mother says, her flat eyes on him.

“I said I wouldn’t,” Tobirama mutters, carefully cleaning his brushes. 

“You will. Because you think you know how to best protect your brother.”

“If you’re so sure, then why are you even here?” He’s not being petulant. He’s _not._

“I told you, to find out _when_ , Tobirama. But that’s not what you really want to talk about.” Mother hasn’t blinked once and Tobirama desperately, irrationally wants to run away. Mother has never hurt him, has actively shielded him from Father, yet she still unsettles him the most. Tobirama understands Butsuma, even though most days he wishes he didn’t. He doesn’t understand Hashirama, but his brother is ultimately harmless. Mother…Mother is not.

“You support him, nurture his fantasy of a perfect soulmate when out of everyone you should logically be most against it. Why? Why do you do that?” Tobirama asks, setting his cleaned brushes and bottled ink aside.

“You would rather I be harsh with him? To see his smile and cheer dim until he’s hollow?” Mother asks, one brow arching. 

“There’s a difference between being cruel and being realistic,” Tobirama insists.

“He has you to drag him out of his fantasies and he has Butsuma and the entire clan to be unnecessarily cruel. I do not need to add additional pressure.”

“It’s going to get him killed!” Tobirama shoots to his feet, nervous energy racing through his veins. She still hasn’t blinked. “He’s not thinking of how to guard or protect his soulmate to make sure someone doesn’t kill her to kill him! Instead he has all these romantic notions—”

“And how would you suggest Hashirama _guard_ his soulmate?” Mother’s eyes narrow and Tobirama barely bites back the words. Keeping her safe if she’s a civilian is only logical. But Mother is a glorified prisoner in her own house, let out only when there’s a public event that requires the entire family’s presence. “Hmm, that’s what I thought. Let me tell _you_ something, Tobirama. You are not Hashirama’s father, you are not his elder brother. You have barely met your first decade of life, yet you think you are your brother’s keeper, responsible for all his affairs. You are not. Moreso, regardless of any feelings you have on the matter, Hashirama and his soulmate are not little birds to be caged to serve your whims. You can speak so casually about _guarding_ some poor girl, but if his soulmate’s family tried to do the same, you would surely take issue.” Mother’s voice remains even, emotionless, but Tobirama slowly sinks back into his cushion, chastised.

“Hashirama is stronger, he’ll be the next clan head—”

“That does not give you, or Butsuma, the right to force someone into a gilded cage. Hashirama is not you, not your father, not even me. He deserves the chance to make his own decisions. You need to trust him to make those decisions.” Mother meets his eyes and when Tobirama nods, she finally blinks.

“I just don’t understand how _you_ could want him to find his soulmate. He thinks they’re a blessing, but they’re really a curse,” Tobirama mutters, staring at the finished calligraphy set in front of him.

“I’ve told you the story.” The story of how she and Butsuma met. The one that is not a _lie_ but not the _truth_. The one responsible for most of Hashirama’s romanization of the concept, despite the bleak reality of their parents’ marriage right in front of him. At its core, the story is this: Hagane saved Butsuma’s life on the battlefield and in doing so, discovered they were soulmates.

Mother _implied_ she was only on the front as a medic, but Tobirama checked the records and, while battles are inherently chaotic and never go as planned, the medic tents were three miles south of the position Mother was at. Senju women weren’t allowed to combatants, only medics. Something didn’t add up. It didn’t matter to Hashirama, he took the story and spun it into an overly grand tale about two shinobi bound by love, fighting side by side, and promptly declared that’s what he and his soulmate would be.

“Not all of it.”

Mother stares at him, stares at him for so long Tobirama forgets what he’s just said. He’s trapped under her flat, gray gaze.

“I am the eldest of five, with four younger sisters,” Mother speaks and the trance breaks. Tobirama straightens, surprised. This is the first time she’s ever spoken of her family.

“My father was not a good man, not a rich man, not an important man. He once was a smart man, but a complication from a Yamanaka jutsu left him dazed and forgetful. But he knew he had four daughters, the youngest not yet born, and that we were a poor vassal clan of the Senju. We survived the winters, but money was scarce. It was not enough for my father. He had _plans_ for younger sisters. They were to be married off, _sold_ off. You do not know a woman’s fears, Tobirama. Death is the worst thing you can imagine. There are many things worse than death.” Her steel eyes are _glacial_ and Tobirama looks away, his fists bunching up his nemaki.

“My mother was not a kind woman, not a rich woman, not an important woman. She was a strong woman who made a decision. My life for my sisters’. She cut my hair, bound my chest, killed her daughter and renamed me as her son. My father didn’t believe her, didn’t think he could forget having a _worthy_ son,” Mother’s lip curls, “but he counted and there were four daughters. Four daughters and one son. The most lucrative job for vassal clans is to serve as shinobi on the front lines. The pay is good because few survive to claim it. My father sent me to the Senju to bring honor to his name. My mother sent me to the Senju to delay the inevitable. I was younger than you, barely ten when I was sent to the front.

“I was not expected to live. The vassal trainers estimated I had a week at most before I was cut down due to my inexperience. Another body among hundreds. At no time did I expect, or want, to find my soulmate. We are alike in this regard, Tobirama. They expected me to die, but I did not. I crawled back, week after week, month after month, bloody and torn apart. Every time I feared my secret would be revealed and the Senju would do what their enemies could not. But the medics did not betray me. They whispered ‘sister’ into my ear alone and changed my bandages in as much privacy as they could afford.

“Eventually, I became a shinobi in my own right. I was gifted at genjutsu and sensing, a master at long range combat with two specialties in kunai and senbon. My family was thriving. My mother saved every ryo I sent back and my father was found dead in the snow one cold winter day. Shame. For a time, I had hope.

“And then I saved your father’s life.” She says it absolutely no emotion. “It was before he became clan head. He was young and arrogant, prideful with a vicious temper. He thought he was invincible, that he could only be felled by an enemy much older and more experienced than him. Uchiha Tajima almost killed him in their first face-off.” _and I should have let him._ Tobirama doesn’t know if that’s what she thinks, or what his own mind fills in.

“I didn’t know who either was. Just that a young man wearing a Senju insignia was about to be run through by a teenager with an uchiwa on his back. Had Tajima been even a split second slower, I would have taken his left eye with my senbon.” Tobirama sucks in a sharp breath. To be an eye-killer was one of the highest marks of skill. “I wonder if he still has a scar…”

“He does. It cuts into his hairline,” Tobirama says, remembering the terrifying time he saw Uchiha Tajima on the battlefield, one of his demonic sons by his side. Tobirama thinks it was the eldest, Madara, hopes it was the eldest because the boy was splattered in blood, cutting down seasoned Senju shinobi like they were nothing. 

“As it was, Tajima had enough sense to fall back and regroup with his clanmates. Butsuma, however, was angry. He accused me of trying to make a fool of him, trying to steal the glory of killing an heir of the Uchiha. I tried to walk away after realizing what I had inadvertently interfered in. But Butsuma reached out to grab my arm, missed, and touched my hand instead…funny, what a difference a pair of gloves would have made.

“At a single touch the soulmark carves itself into the skin. You can feel it. There’s blood, the same red as the characters and no matter the method, _nothing_ can remove it. Butsuma was furious. He could not bear the shame of having a man for a soulmate,” Mother’s eyes bore into him and Tobirama realizes she’s searching for _something_. Same-sex soulmates are the rarest of any kind, but Tobirama isn’t sure whether because they were _actually_ rare or if, when discovered, the pair was usually killed. “Imagine his relief when he discovered I was a woman.” Mother smiles, a small, bitter thing. “I was pulled from the battlefield, married, and locked up in my cage. Sage forbid I inconvenience your father and be an exploitable weakness, though he would never offer me the same consideration.

“But here is where you’re not quite right, but not quite wrong, Tobirama. Soulmates are not a curse. But they are not a blessing either. They are not fundamentally anything, just another variety of love. And the nature of love is only determined by the people who feel it. Why did I not discourage Hashirama from seeking his soulmate out? From having his romantic ideas? Because Hashirama is not Butsuma. Hashirama does not view love in the same way, and I have more faith in a thirteen-year-old’s understanding of love than I do in Butsuma’s. But more than that, I want to protect my son, to see him happy. I will do anything to ensure that, to safeguard him from a cruel world that seeks violence for violence’s sake,” Mother finishes and they drift into silence. 

Her words roll and tangle in Tobirama’s head. He needs to sit down and think about them, tease out the ideas and pick the words apart one by one until they all fit together and make sense. It’s no different than one of his experiments or a confusing new seal.

But for now…

“What happened to your family? Your sisters and mother?” Tobirama asks, looking up at Hagane. For the first time since she walked into his room, Mother’s face softens, her gray eyes lose their bitter, flat edge.

“They are well, I hope. I haven’t seen them since my father died. And I will not write to them, lest their safety and wellbeing be used against me like you and your brother are.” The words aren’t surprising, but it still chills him how causally she says it. Hashirama is Mother’s favorite. Father uses him to control her. He would never _actually_ hurt Hashirama, not permanently, not past discipline. That wouldn’t be logical. “You are a good brother, Tobirama, but trust Hashirama to make his own decisions. Trust me to keep him, and _you_ , safe.” Mother reaches out and rests her hand on his shoulder, the opposite one Father always places his heavy hand on.

Tobirama…tries.

He tries to ignore Hashirama coming home late at night, a dumb, goofy smile plastered on his face. He develops a bad habit of running his fingers over the name late at night when he can’t sleep. At least they’re back to sleeping in the same room. Tobirama doesn’t want to admit how _quiet_ everything has been since Itama and Kawarama have died.

He tries to ignore his father and brother’s worsening fights and Mother’s calculating eyes. Soon he never sees her without a convenient needle at hand and Tobirama is reminded of how painful senbon can be, even when they’re used non-lethally.

He tries to ignore the strange messenger bird that Mother receives, only in the garden, only when the moon is a sliver in the sky. The dark falcon drops like a shadow in one moment and is gone the next. He follows her as carefully as he can, but he’s never seen when or how she sends messages back.

Tobirama tries, but eventually, he breaks.

Hashirama starts to spend more and more time away from home. So much so that Butsuma starts to ask after him, complaining that he can’t find Hashirama anywhere, that he’s slacking off on his training. So Tobirama goes out to look. He doesn’t intend to tell Father anything, he just wants to warn Hashirama and tell him to be more careful.

But Hashirama isn’t in the compound.

Tobirama panics and stretches out his senses, reaching and grasping for Hashirama’s familiar all-consuming chakra. There, right on the edge of his range. Past the compound’s gates and heading out further into the forest.

_What’s he doing? Where’s he going?_

Tobirama races out, following after his brother.

It’s not until the forest starts to thin, and he hears the rushing sound of water ahead, that it dawns on him that Hashirama’s soulmate might not be a Senju or from an allied vassal clan.

It’s not until he’s crouched on a tree branch, peering through dabbled leaves, his heart thudding against his chest as his nails dig into the rough bark, that he realizes Hashirama’s soulmate might be a clan enemy.

It’s not until Uchiha Madara lands next to his brother and Hashirama doesn’t yell or draw a weapon, instead he embraces Madara with the same dopey smile Tobirama has seen on his face for _months,_ that he knows he’s going to tell Butsuma.

Tobirama rushes back to the Senju compound. All he can think of is Madara at his father’s side, cutting down grown Senju men with a bored, disinterested look. The Senju whisper and mutter about the demon’s deal Uchiha Tajima had to make to have a son that powerful. A monster masquerading as a man. Uchiha Madara was vicious and cruel, no sharingan but already the curse of hatred coiled in his black heart.

 _That_ was Hashirama’s perfect soulmate?! _That_ was the person Tobirama was supposed to trust with his brother’s safety?!

 _Mother knew. Mother knew all along._ The thought burned, poisonous betrayal in his veins. She told him to mind his own business, treated him like an ignorant child while she _knew_ Hashirama had the name of their clan’s greatest enemy carved over his heart?!

And now their lives were joined. Madara couldn’t be killed without sacrificing Hashirama too.

Tobirama’s heart pounds, his hands shake. He feels like he’s about to be sick.

_Father will know what to do, he has too._

The door to Butsuma’s office is in front of him. Tobirama’s feet have carried him, faster than he’s ever run in his life, back to the compound. Tobirama shoves down his brother’s voice, pleading with him not to tell father, and his mother’s telling him to trust her and knocks on the wooden frame.

Butsuma is sitting behind a low table, papers and scrolls piled around him, a report in hand. He looks up as Tobirama stumbles in and kneels on the tatami floor. Tobirama takes a deep breath and begins to speak. Butsuma sets down the report, his expression immediately darkening when Tobirama says _soulmate._

Because he is a good son, a loyal son, he doesn’t say anything about Mother’s involvement or how long Hashirama has been meeting with the Uchiha. Tobirama isn’t lying when he tells Father that he suspects Madara tricked Hashirama, possibly with extended genjutsu use, to view him as a friend, not a threat. Soulmate or not, Madara is Hashirama’s enemy.

It’s Madara’s fault, Tobirama insists.

It’s Madara’s fault, but Butsuma’s rage is focused on Hashirama as he waits until Mother is in the garden before dragging Hashirama from their room, into his office.

It’s Madara’s fault, but Hashirama’s look of betrayal is directed towards Tobirama when Butsuma starts to yell and raises his hand.

It’s Madara’s fault, but Hagane’s senbon bury themselves into Butsuma’s arm before his fist makes contact with Hashirama.

“Go to your room, boys,” Mother says as she steps into the office, kunai in one hand, more senbon in the other. Hashirama doesn’t hesitate to listen, backing away from Butsuma and running out of the room, but Tobirama hesitates. For an instant he feels her chakra spike and the room swirl around him just a little bit…off. “ _Now_ , Tobirama.” The barely constrained fury in her voice, the cold, cold, _cold_ steel eyes locked onto Butsuma, has Tobirama tripping after his brother.

But unlike Hashirama, once the shoji closes behind him, he stills. Tobirama moves to the side, makes himself small on the floor and listens.

“Why am I not surprised you knew, Hagane?” Butsuma growls and Tobirama hears the muffled metallic clink as the senbon drop to the ground. “Why am I also not surprised you’d attack your clan head, your husband? This is treason, if you think _this_ house is a cage…”

“Shut up, Butsuma. Don’t act innocent, this situation is more than you could have ever hoped for. Your rebellious firstborn tied to your oldest enemy’s firstborn. You wouldn’t hesitate to kill Hashirama if you thought it meant hurting Tajima.” Tobirama waits for Father to deny it…but he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he? _Why?_ “You’d get everything you wanted. The son who you fear, gone. The obedient son the new heir. Tajima emotionally devastated at the loss of his eldest, the Uchiha’s greatest prodigy, dead. And an excuse to finally send off your disobedient wife. All wrapped up, nice and neat. You’d just have to bear the clan’s shame of having sired a treasonous son with a boy’s name written over his heart.”

“You’re doing a very poor job of convincing me to do anything else, Hagane.” Tobirama watches as their shadows circle one another.

_No…Father wouldn’t…he wouldn’t._

It’s not logical. Hashirama will be the strongest. To kill him would…it would…

“I’m not trying to convince you. You won’t get the chance to do anything of the sort.”

“Oh? And _you’re_ going to make sure of that?” Father scoffs.

“Yes.” The shadows shift and Tobirama realizes how dangerous this situation has become. “I know you, Butsuma. I know what you’re afraid of most. Insignificance. Death. It’s why you’re afraid of Hashirama but not Tobirama. However, you’ve miscalculated. It’s not Hashirama who’ll kill you and wipe you from history, it’s _me._ ”

Father laughs. He laughs loud and hard and Tobirama wants to yell at him to stop.

“You? In case you’ve forgotten, woman, we’re tied together. If you try to kill me, you’ll kill yourself too,” Butsuma scoffs.

And now Mother laughs. Not the same, loud, raucous sound as Father’s. But the slow, building laugh tinged with madness that’d be better suited to the Uchiha, not the Senju.

“I’m well aware. Honestly, I have you to thank. It’s hard to fear death, when you’re already a living ghost. You have taken _everything_ from me but my sons. If Hashirama dies, I won’t hesitate to slit my throat just to spite you. So let me make this crystal clear, Senju Butsuma,” Tobirama watches as their shadows converge, the edge of the kunai in Mother’s hand drawing closer and closer to Father’s throat, “if for _any_ reason, Hashirama dies, if there’s even an _attempt_ on his life, I _will_ kill you. Any accident, any mishap, any mistake and it’s your death.”

“And you think the Uchiha won’t kill Madara to weaken us? You’ll be selfish enough to rob the Senju of their leader in a crisis?” Father’s shadow pushes away and they start to circle again.

“Don’t try for sanctimony, Butsuma, it doesn’t suit you. The Uchiha wouldn’t touch Madara, to them purposefully severing a soulbond is an insult to the goddess they think made it. You’re mistaking your ego for their own.” 

“And you’re suddenly an expert on the Uchiha.”

“It’s less expertise and more of a binding oath.” It’s hard to make out her movements, but Tobirama hears the shifting of her kimono and then a scroll being unfurled. “‘I, Uchiha Tajima, swear on my eyes, the eyes of my ancestors, and the eyes of my two sons—’” Hagane reads. There’s a scuffle and Tobirama flinches, curling in on himself. Father hisses in pain and his shadow retreats before Tobirama hears ripping paper.

“That’s what I think of your oath!” Butsuma snarls.

Mother scoffs. “You think that was the original? I told you, Butsuma, _I know you._ I knew what your reaction would be. I knew from the moment Hashirama told me he met a boy by the river, the moment the name appeared on his skin. And I knew I wouldn’t let you take his life, his happiness like you took mine. In fact, you’re going to do more, you’re going to make peace and end the war.”

“You’ve gone completely mad, woman.”

“If you had bothered to read the contract before ripping it up in your little tantrum, you’d have seen Tajima and I discussed more than just preserving our sons’ lives. Sign the cease-fire, cement your place in history as the Senju who ended the war with the Uchiha, or I kill us and Hashirama becomes clan head and signs it. Then the only legacy you’ll have, if you’re even that lucky, is being the man who sired the legendary Senju Hashirama.”

Tobirama’s mind reels.

“And if I refuse? Someone else will discover Hashirama’s treachery. He’s a traitor, it’s carved into his chest. All you’ll have done was delay the inevitable. Your _precious_ son will still die.” The candle flickers, their shadows waver and warp on the shoji.

“If the Senju turn against Hashirama, I’ve made arrangements with Tajima. The Uchiha will welcome him with open arms. The Senju prodigy, a supernaturally strong, gifted healer, blessed with a kekkei genkai long thought to be a myth? My, whatever will the power hungry Uchiha do with such an offer? Refuse it?” He can hear the sneer in her voice.

“You trust those monsters. Nothing stops them from locking Hashirama away once they have them. Then you’ll have damned him to your own fate. Do you think he’ll be grateful?”

“So you admit this life is hell? Done pretending I should be grateful for my chains, to be the wife of the great and noble Senju Butsuma? As for the Uchiha, you don’t know anything about them, do you? If you tried to understand them, to outthink them instead of swinging your sword and declaring yourself the sage’s gift to the world, you’ll have noticed something important.”

“Are you going to tell me they’re misunderstood? That we should open our hearts to them? Forget about the generations of war and death?” Father mocks.

“Of course not. The Uchiha are fanatics, they’re utterly obsessed with their superstitions. If Tajima breaks his oath, I swore to him I would bind myself to one of his devils and drag his soul from the sun’s embrace for the breach.”

“His devils? You think that’s enough—”

“Desecrate the Rikudou, Butsuma. Turn away from Asura and your proud Senju legacy. You can’t, can you?” Father is silent. “Mockery when it’s the Uchiha’s, devotion when it’s your own. There’re more ways to win a war and bend people to your will than by brute force alone,” Mother’s voice is soft and cold, steady and freezing. “I know you and now I know Tajima; _knowledge_ is how you win. You don’t know me. You refused. You chose to see me only as your weakness and now you’re the helpless one.”

“You think I can’t lock you away? Have you chained and bound for the rest of your wretched life? The Senju are loyal to _me,_ Hagane,” Father snarls, but for the first time Tobirama can hear the waver in his voice, the undercurrent of fear.

Mother can too.

“But can you do it in time? We’re on my schedule, in my house, Butsuma. I have everything prepared, you do not.”

“You think your peace will last? That war won’t erupt again with even more lives lost because of you?” Father is desperate, reaching for anything.

Mother laughs again. Not the tainted mad laugh, but a low, rolling dark one that has Tobirama trembling in fear. 

“You think I care? About the Uchiha who killed my dearest friends? About the Senju who used me for whatever purpose suited them best? I have died and been reborn countless times, stripped of everything and everyone I loved. No more. Both clans can rot for all I care, but you _will not_ kill my son. You’ve lost, Butsuma. Sign the cease-fire or die.” The words are ironclad.

Father’s shadow slumps, its head hanging low as Mother’s stands tall and proud.

Tobirama is frozen on the ground. He needs to move before they exit and see him, but his mind feels disconnected, adrift. The world as he knows it has been destroyed. The Senju will sign a cease-fire with the Uchiha. Mother has successfully staged a shadow coup. 

All because he…

_I want to know when you’ll tell Butsuma._

…he told Butsuma.

_You will. Because you think you know how to best protect your brother._

As the shoji doors slide open and he curls up as tight as he can, Tobirama is struck with an irrational thought. Hashirama inherited everything from Mother, her dark brown skin, her silk straight hair, her chin, her nose. Everything but her eyes.

The footsteps come to a stop.

Tobirama can’t help but look up and he meets Mother’s cold, cold, _cold_ eyes.

Familiar eyes.

His own eyes, if he hadn’t been born an albino.

Less than a week later, under a slate gray sky, a hastily made group of Senju and Uchiha representatives meet in neutral land to ratify the newly signed ceasefire. Neither Butsuma or Tajima shake hands and the tension when they meet eyes would have buckled inexperienced men. It is not an alliance. Not a village.

Only the cessation of war, poised to shatter at any time.

Off to the side, Hagane stands, closed-eyed and serene with a senbon pressed casually against her radial artery. If she had been the center of attention, rather than the two bitter men, the gathered group would have thought her odd. A woman dressed in a white kimono, folded left over right. A smiling ghost, secretly puppeting the Senju clan.

Equally strange would be the two clan heirs by her side, standing a carefully measured distance apart but sharing lingering looks and secret smiles.

Tobirama stands on her other side, next to a wary Uchiha Izuna. He glances at the two pairs and knows.

Soulmates are a curse.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did Tobirama justice. I've never written him before and it fascinates me to think about how, as a child, he was extremely logical and tried his best to protect Hashirama, but he was just a kid who also picked up the Senjus' (Butsuma's) biases. I hope it, and the rather limited perspective he had, balanced out ok. 
> 
> And if it wasn't clear, when Hagane first entered Butsuma's office, she 100% was using genjutsu to manipulate him. I think genjutsu is underexplored/underused especially very subtle genjutsu that can be used to influence/exploit emotions.
> 
> Also, fluffy tangent, in this universe Madara constantly gets picked up by Hagane. Terrifying she may be, but Madara's a cute kid and she wants a hug. Much to Tobirama's horror, they get along quite well. 
> 
> Tomorrow's piece is another art one: The Devil Went Down to Georgia 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3


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